


Nirvana

by restless (cabinfever)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Drug Use, Hallucinogens, M/M, Mixing Drugs, Overdosing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-28
Updated: 2013-05-28
Packaged: 2017-12-13 05:10:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/820371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cabinfever/pseuds/restless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A step too far, Liam might have thought in hindsight. Is it safe to mix vodka and LSD?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nirvana

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired, somehow, by the Adam Lambert song of the same name.

“I love it,” Zayn whispers into the shell of his ear, voice quiet and raspy and Liam faintly thinks that he rather likes the way that this Zayn smells. Like sweat and smoke and sex.

There’s an empty syringe [next](http://theundiscloseddesires.tumblr.com/post/41495758516/nirvana) to the bed, once filled with heroin but now just a glass vessel that once held the promise of a rush. Liam’s head is spinning, but that really doesn’t matter.

Zayn was nice enough to share his stash with Liam, locking the door of the hotel room and drawing the curtains, deadbolt sliding into place and cords unplugged. All but one light is dead, all but the shaded lamp in the corner with the warm yellow light that Liam wants to bathe in.

Zayn’s eyes had been amber then, dark pupils growing with that feral smile of his when he’d opened the minibar in the room – being in One Direction had its perks - and taken out some vodka, announcing that he and Liam were about to get completely and utterly  _fucked._

Liam thinks that it was something about it all getting too much, about how the hate was growing and the fans were starting to lose interest and they were starting that slow spiral down, down, down. And he’d been scared, terrified of Zayn’s rage and passion and kisses, growls of hatred for the world that were snarled into his mouth.

But when he’d held the smoldering blunt to Liam’s lips, raspy growl slurred after half a bottle of vodka, Liam had drank it down, sucking up the smoke like it was the hot chocolate his mum used to make. He probably should’ve said no, should’ve stopped and yelled and gotten Zayn help. But he’d already had the other half of the vodka, a lightweight in all honesty but he wouldn’t tell Zayn, and all that he could think was that there was Zayn, Zayn’s dark eyes and shaking fingers and maybe it had seemed like a good idea at the time.

And the little cubes of sugar, laced with the drug that Zayn had said would make him see fireworks. Those were Liam’s favorites of the night.

And Liam is tired and he thinks to himself, some little part of him that survived the blast of poison, that maybe he’s had a bit too much to drink.

Is it safe to mix vodka and LSD?

Zayn’s eyes are hooded, yellow-tinged and a blood vessel has burst in the corner of his right eye, bright red and Liam thinks of rubies. They’re so pretty, rubies. “Zayn,” he whines, fingers squeezing at Zayn’s arm. “Zayn.” Should his head hurt this much?

And Zayn looks at him, lax mouth and heavy panting breaths and he looks so beautiful, so sparkling and why didn’t Liam do this before?

He thinks that maybe it’s the hallucinogens - who the fuck came up with the word hallucinogens anyway?- kicking in, making him see double, triple, hot pink and bright turquoise and the walls are moving and  _what is happening_?

“Liam, this is…perfect.” Zayn is drawing shaky breaths, pupils dilated and breath smelling of smoke. There’s the telltale puncture mark on his arm, and Liam dives and sucks at the inside of the ashen elbow, drawing at the taste of blood and bitterness that still lies on the surface, lapping at the taste like it is a new drug, and his head is spinning so much. “Liam,” Zayn breathes, breathy and high and peaceful, and his hips buck and his eyes fly wide. Liam’s hands travel down, mouth still sucking at the skin he’d found while his hands –  _fucking perfect_ , Zayn had called them – palmed at Zayn where he needed it.

It doesn’t take long, the frenzied, drunken fervor mixed with god knows how many drugs, all lips and sensation and colors. Zayn arches his back into Liam’s touch, coming with a gasp and that’s all Liam needs, coming too and then there’s more fireworks, more sensation and wondering and  _feeling_  and Liam loves it.

He collapses beside Zayn, the throbbing in his head growing and growing and it hurts like a jackhammer going BANGBANGBANGBANGBANG in his skull and it hurts. “Zayn…” he whispers, and it’s the only word that he knows to articulate. “Zayn…?”

He turns to him.

There are those lips and those eyes and that hair that he knows, all tousled and sweaty and gorgeous. But now Zayn’s eyes are dull, half-lidded, and there’s a thin line of drool dribbling from the corner of his mouth. A wheeze whistles from his lax mouth, smelling of the smoke they’d shared.

Liam reaches over and pokes his cheek, feeling drowsy. “Zayn?” he asks, but then Zayn coughs, and blood comes up to spatter his lips.

The wheezing stops after that.

“Zayn?”

Liam pokes Zayn again, but there isn’t a response, and Liam whines, rolling onto his back because his head _fucking hurts_  and his chest feels tight.

A gasp of breath, a shooting of stars in front of his eyes, projected atop the image of the purple-green-orange ceiling fan.

The yellow light twinkles. Liam wants to eat it, like the strudel that Mum used to make. It seems warm and he wants it.

He tries to get up and ends up on the floor, sprawled with a hand stretched to the lamp. He coughs, the nausea and the tightening and  _why won’t his head stop hurting?_ and comes up with vomit, and there may or may not be blood mixed in with the phlegm and bile. It’s red, like rubies.

Liam thinks of Zayn’s eyes.

He closes his eyes, the tightening taking over and the jackhammer in his head turns into a rusty chainsaw, and the pressure behind his eyes grows.

“Zayn?” he whimpers, one last time before his head hits the carpet.

Zayn was beautiful, like the rubies. Like the light. Liam wishes he could reach him.

A last semblance of thought –

_Zayn?_

*          *          *

“Lads?”

A room key drops to the floor; a voice screams in horror.

Paramedics rush in; zippers on body bags are sealed.


End file.
